The Promise - Mahlatse Mokone (the false prince series .TXT) 📗

The

Promise

BY MAHLATSE MOKONE

CHAPTER 1

I raked my brush through my dark hair, it’s long and thick, and the auburn tint it has is only visible in the sunlight. Given that I was already late I didn’t have time to do anything fancy with it.

My gaze dropped to the necklace my Mom gave me when I was little. I absolutely loved it; it had a very vintage style to it. It looked priceless yet simple and my mother claim that it’s been in her family for generations.

I’m Katelyn Melanie Gilbert, proclaimed one of the popular girls high school. Everyone saw me as the spoiled mean girl who always gets what she wants. Sometimes the false perception people have of me bothers me. I was not mean, I was outspoken. I was not spoiled; I was privileged.

I sighed and stood up from my dressing table, it was a Monday. I hated this day with a passion as any 16-year-old 10th grader would.

“Mom!” I called out, and minutes later she appeared on the doorway, leaning against it. “Have you seen my black Chanel bag anywhere?” I asked.

“Did you check your bottom drawer? You always leave stuff there and forget them sweetie.” She said with a slight smile. She walked further into my room; her movement was effortlessly elegant.

Lucky Melissa Gilbert is a very beautiful woman, and I’m not even being biased because she’s my mother. For a woman in her forties she could easily pass off as being in her early thirties. Almost everyone says I look like her, although I don’t have her green eyes. They’re her most beautiful feature, sometimes I wish I had them too but I have my Dad’s eyes instead. Not that I’m complaining.

I think I unconsciously idolize my mother, but would never admit it to myself and especially to her, I don’t even know why.

I went to the drawer next to my closet and pulled at the bottom one, indeed I found my bag under a whole heap of stuff I’ve been looking for. I made a mental note to always look there when I lose something.

“Thanks.” I said to her when I turned back, “Sure.” she said sitting on the edge of my double bed, its then that I noticed she was dressed for work. She wore a mid-length beige dress and black heels. Her long hair was tied into a neat chignon. She looked professional and chic.

“Can we talk?” she asked and I sighed, “I’m late Mom, can’t we talk later?” I said, putting all my stuff in my bag.

“This won’t take long Katelyn.” She said patting the empty space next to her; she used her no nonsense tone, when she did there was no arguing with her. I obliged, settling next to her.

“This is about your little sister.” She said and I threw my arms up

“What about her…?” I asked exasperated, she gave me a hard look and I kept quiet. “You know what.” She said then sighed, “Janie feels like you’re neglecting her, she thinks you don’t like her,” she added.

“That’s crazy, I love her.” I said and she nodded

“I know, but she needs to hear that and see it from you.” She said, “You’re her big sister Katelyn, she looks up to you, it wouldn’t hurt to pay some attention to her,” she added tucking some of my hair behind my ear.

“Janie is not exactly lacking any friends Mom.” I pointed out and she gave me a knowing look. “You know that’s not what I meant.” She said “Spend time with her, go to the movies with her or the beach, or something. It would mean a lot to her,” she added and I groaned giving up.

“Fine, I’ll go talk to her.” I said and she kissed my cheek, stood up and left.

I shook my head finishing getting ready, my Mom’s gift is persuasion. No wonder she has Dad wrapped around her finger.

When I was done I walked out of my room, closing to door behind me and headed towards Janie’s, which was around the corner from mine. I knocked and heard her reply to come in. She was slightly surprised to see me walk in; she looked ready for school too, though she was in middle school.

“Katelyn.” She beamed and I smiled at her, my 12-year old little sister was a bag of sweet potatoes. She was nice but a little obnoxious sometimes, which is why I liked to stay clear of her. I never thought my doing so would hurt her feelings.

She had the same black hair that ran in our family but her blue eyes were lighter than the rest of ours.

“Hey Janie, want to do something fun after school?” I asked and she quickly nodded, obviously excited. I chuckled at her reaction “Okay, we’ll chat later okay?” I asked and she eagerly agreed.

I went down the hallway and down the long staircase; the mansion I called home was breathtaking from the outside as it was on the inside. It could go from being my sanctuary to being my personal hell with the crazy family I had. I loved every single one of them but getting on each other’s throats was inevitable. Or was that just my own teenage angst talking?

I paused when I saw my Mom and Dad in the kitchen, she was laughing with her head back and my Dad was smiling at her with his arm around her waist and a cup of coffee in the other hand.

I smiled at the scene in spite of myself, I don’t think I fully understand the love they share, blame it on my age or whatever. But I lived in a society that doesn’t believe in true love or its existence for that matter. It was good to see that it was there, and I hoped that one day I’d get to experience it myself.

They were cute but still nauseating sometimes; they’re still my parents after all. I bend down and walked in between them, purposely hinting for them to stop. I guess they got the message because they gave each other a knowing look.

“Morning angel.” Dad said to me as I grabbed the fresh toast off the toaster and quickly buttered it.

“Hi Dad.” I replied; I gave up trying to get him to stop calling me by that nickname. I quickly took in his well-suited appearance; my Dad was a world-renowned corporate mogul, and that also came with some media attention. The name Jesse Gilbert meant a lot of things to many people but to me he was just my Dad. My overprotective, sweet, but sometimes annoying father.

I took another bite out of the crispy slice as I made my way out the kitchen island, “Your brother left a couple of minutes ago.” Mom said and I shrugged, “Okay.” I said lamely; I didn’t really care about JT’s whereabouts.

“And Janie…?” Dad probed and I rolled my eyes “Don’t worry Dad, Mom already gave me the 411. She and I are going to have some sisterly bonding after school.” I said and he flashed me a brilliant smile.

“I have to go. Bye.” I said giving them both quick hugs and rushing out towards the garage; our massive garage was an automobile exhibition. I got into my silver Jaguar XK convertible; I inhaled the brand new car smell and smiled to myself as I pushed the start button. It was a birthday present from my Dad and now that I have my driver’s license I can drive it on my own. It’s a pretty luxurious car for a 16 year old, but hey, when your Dad is a multi billionaire anything goes right? He loved to spoil me; hell he named his private plane after me. Something he let me grow up believing I owned. Then again he spoils all of us, he named his massive yacht Janie’s heart,and his island after my Mom.

I drove out of the circular drive way and out of the tall metal gates. I didn’t mind the drive back to the city much; I loved the fact that we were secluded from the rest of the town.

The city of angels held a special place in my heart; I loved everything about this city. The palm trees, the weather, the glitz and glamour; I’ve always been down with what LA had to offer.

I pulled up on my high school’s parking lot, indeed I saw JT’s red Maserati on its usual parking spot. Oh yes, my big brother JT.

The proclaimed bad boy and the school’s hottie; they were also wrong about him. There’s such an extreme need to class everyone in high school, its sad. It mostly just clouds and narrows our judgment in everyone and everything.

JT was the student body president and the school’s football quarterback; this was his senior year. He had the same overachieving mentality as Dad; he was intelligent and driven. Others say I have those qualities as well, but I just did what I thought was necessary, nothing more nothing less. JT was also the overprotective big brother over Janie and I, as if dealing with Dad wasn’t bad enough.

The only thing JT did that pissed me off was date Adrianna Sparks, the blonde cheerleading captain and overall bitchy bimbo.

She was nice to me when JT was around but as soon as he was gone she sharpened her claws. Just being around her was exhausting and I preferred not to be but I couldn’t get away from her because she’s forever clinging onto JT.

I got out of my car and saw Tess approach me, Theresa Collins has been my best friend since middle school, no one understood me like she did.

She was a natural redhead, she mostly wore it long and wavy, and she had warm brown eyes, she was an overall pretty girl. I hugged her when she reached me

“I’m so high-jacking that bag.” She teased as we walked out of the lot.

“How about you ask nicely instead.” I said and she chuckled. Many of the students had already arrived, going through the main entrance of the school. Walking through the crowded hallways of St. Josephs High School felt like torture sometimes. I’ll never understand why my parents decided to send us to public schools. Then again the thought of attending at one of those uptight snobbish private schools made my skin crawl.

We walked over to our lockers and I took out my books for the first period,

“Come over to my house after school.” Tess said locking hers; I grimaced.

“I can’t, I promised Janie we’d do something today.” I said and she chuckled

“Your parent’s idea?” she asked and I nodded “Well why don’t you bring her over too?” she asked and I thought about it for a short while.

“That’s actually a great plan Tess, I’ll suggest it to her and let you know.” I said and the bell rang making me slightly wince.

“I know; it gets to me too, every time.” Tess said and I sheepishly smiled at her, she entwined her arm with mine, “Lets get this over with.” I said and we walked to our first class.

CHAPTER 2

I was glad when I walked into art class; this was the only class Tess didn’t take with me. Somehow that never deterred me from absolutely loving it. I would always sketch stuff when I was little; I guess I got my love for art from my Dad.

I admire art my angel but you have the talent to create it he once said to me.

I made my way to my desk; the other students quickly filled the classroom as well. I absently toyed with my pencil waiting for them to settle down, a brief silence made me look up.

My gaze locked on the new guy talking to Mr. Anderson, he had dirty blonde hair that hung loose around